


Namesake

by Starts_with_a_D



Series: Merlin one-shots [8]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Great Depression, Immortal Merlin, Possible Psychic?, Trains, namesake, wyoming - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-12-01 01:39:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11475906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starts_with_a_D/pseuds/Starts_with_a_D
Summary: Merlin meets Merlin at a train station in Wyoming.





	Namesake

Wyoming was an interesting place, if by interesting you meant boring. It reminded Merlin of England back when he was a kid: small towns with a whole lot of nothing in between. The Depression had livened things up for a bit, but now the whole world had settled into a rut, Wyoming with it.

The train only came through town once a day, so missing it was a bad idea. Merlin had never been one to be on time to anything---especially  _ important _ things---but he thanked his lucky stars for his landlady; while he was usually annoyed at the loud sounds of her making breakfast at seven in the morning, today it had been a boon. Not only was he ready to leave on time, he was five minutes early. He hadn’t even had to run.

The train station was small, barely a ticket stand and a place to sit down in the shade. Thick, green trees clustered around the tracks, but even they could not hide the flat land that stretched on for miles. The sun was already high in the sky, and the air shimmered with heat.

Only one, slightly rotting bench sat by the tracks, empty save for a small fair-haired boy, who sat leaning forward watching for the train. A small suitcase, fraying at the edges and covered in writing, lay tipped over by the boy’s swinging feet.

Merlin approached slowly. “May I sit here?” he asked. The boy turned his fair head and nodded mutely.

Merlin had scarcely sat down on the creaking bench when the boy said: “Beautiful day. Where are you off to? Cheyenne?”

The warlock nodded. “I’m on business. And you?”

“It’s summer!” the boy cried in jubilation. “I’m catching a ride to Laramie, to visit my grandmother.”

He indicated the small suitcase. On it sat a book Merlin had not noticed before. Merlin smiled when he saw it was a translation of  _ Sir Gawain and the Green Knight _ .

“You like those stories?” he asked, pointing at faded green cover, frayed and covered with little greasy handprints.

The boy’s head went up and down vigorously, his smile broadening to a grin.

“Love them! I think my parents must have known I would enjoy them, because they named me after one of the characters!”

Merlin laughed, leaning forward a little. “Let me guess: the great King Arthur himself!”

“No, silly,” the boy said, rolling his eyes impatiently. “Merlin!”

The warlock blinked, and then, before he could stop himself---“But my name’s Merlin too!”

The boy---Merlin---he nodded as if he’d known this all along, his smile disappearing. “Yes, you look like a Merlin,” he said, his eyes squinting like he was peering into Merlin’s very soul. “Our parents must have seen something . . .”

The sound of the train whistle sounded, much closer than Merlin had expected. The boy paused, momentarily distracted. The train was approaching through the trees, black smoke pouring from the chimney. The boy watched for several moments, mesmerized, then turned back to Merlin abruptly.

“Why did your parents name you Merlin?” he asked.

Merlin blinked. “I don’t know,” he confessed, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe they liked the name. Why did your parents name  _ you _ Merlin?”

The little boy tipped his head to one side and smiled a little. The train was rolling into the station, the noise of the wheels and pistons nearly overwhelming, and Merlin barely heard his response. “Maybe they liked  _ you _ ,” the boy said.

Before Merlin could form a response, the boy grabbed his bag and raced over to the tracks, standing on the tips of his toes as the train drew nearer.

Merlin tipped his head to one side, considering the little boy. He wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, but perhaps---just perhaps---there were interesting things in Wyoming after all.

* * *

“Meeting a namesake is one of the most delicate and most brief surprises.”

Michael Chabon

**Author's Note:**

> I had a great-uncle named Merlin, so I just had to write this story! Also, if you're reading Firelord Rising, I am ALMOST done with school. I will be working on it over the summer break.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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